An Introduction to Japanese Pottery

The Japanese are truly the world's masters when it comes to pottery, and with good reason: they've been at it for over eight thousand years. From the impressionistic stylings of Raku to the restrained, understated beauty of Tanba, Japanese pottery is a universe unto itself.

With such distinctive, often quirky pieces, the value of the work can be difficult to ascertain. Even the cogniscenti of Asian earthenware struggle to agree on the value of works. Is the piece the exuberant expression of a trained master, or the uncompeted work of a talentless hack? Even to the trained eye, it's difficult to tell.



Take this 16th-century Garatsu jar. Its low-key appearance exudes a quiet confidence that reflects its proud heritage. The vessel itself is a classic, perfectly proportioned form, and the application of the thick, milky glazes is quick, balanced, and confident. This is clearly the work of a master at the height of his career.

Next, consider these tiny figures of cats playing musical instruments.



I discovered these works when my tour bus stopped at an underrated artisan's arcade in Kyoto. They obviously required much more work on the part of the potter than some silly brown jug: I mean, anybody can make something that holds water, but it takes sculptural skill and knowledge of feline anatomy to make paws that believably hold a cello.

In my excitement, though, I showed the pieces to an "expert" friend, and without a second's hesitation he pronounced them something less than master work. He claimed that while their little feline features have been articulated competently, they don't quite come alive. Their eyes look like nothing more than tiny balls of white clay. They stand stiffly, as though the instruments have been thrust into their arms. They don't seem to want to play: they're simply holding the instruments for no reason other than the potter wanted them to. If, indeed, these cats came to life, my "friend" declared, their tune would be a rote, mechanical one, rather than the exuberant cantata the best Japanese pottery would inspire.

To be tactful, let's just say my friend and I agreed to disagree, rather than dismiss the "expert" view entirely. I mean, it's folks like these who declared that Raoul couldn't have gotten chlamydia from a taco. One wonders what rarefied atmosphere these "experts" reside in where a brown-and-white jug is better than a posse of frisky felines.

Anyway, I hope this quick little introduction to the controversial world of Japanese pottery inspires you to look further into the field. Remember: as in all art, no one can say what's good and what's bad, not even you! And even if my cats aren't exactly the unrecognized treasures I suspected they were, I still enjoy them, and nobody "ripped me off." Because if I paid a penny for every smile they gave me, I'd have forked over way more than that three thousand dollars they cost.